


The Bitter End

by kurokun



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Other, Sad, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:09:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14130780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokun/pseuds/kurokun
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo lost his mother six months ago, and hasn't been the same since. Their final moments are clouded until a horrific, chance meeting with a stranger makes the memories start to come back. Death visits us all, but only stays close to the brave.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dearest friends. 
> 
> I know what you're going to say. This isn't False Awakening. But, other the other hand, I think its a cool idea. I'm trying to take inspiration where I can get it these days. This has been a recent one. It's short for now, but hopefully I'll stay inspired. 
> 
> I love getting better, so leave feedback for me. If I get some positive responses on this first chapter, I think I'll post the second and keep it going for you guys. 
> 
> Also, if anyone out there still beta's, I would really love to have one. It would be great to be able to work through the difficult stuff with someone. Just saying.
> 
> Kindest regards,  
> kuro

On the other side of the plate glass, men and women in scrubs and white coats ferry charts back and forth frantically. It reminds me of a hive of bees, each worker intent on their sole purpose, rushing around in frenzy and creating a perfectly existing chaos. My eyes grow unfocused suddenly, and the colors and motion blur to something unrecognizable. 

“Kurosaki-san?”

I rub a hand over my eyes hard to clear them, then look back to my mother’s doctor. My head still pounds and stomach thrashes with nausea from a concussion. The man looks at me with a frown, and sets his folder on a bedside table.

“Your head trauma might be worse than I thought, maybe it would be best for you to stay overnight after all-”

“No. I need to be with my sisters. They’re still in high school…”

I trail off, picturing their faces. I even try to recite the doctor’s lines back, imagining how their faces would crack open and spill pain. 

“It may not be my place, but perhaps your father could handle that for you. You’re a young man, Kurosaki-san, and explaining a tragedy like this takes a lot out of a person.”

I look again to the world beyond the glass to a chair outside, across from the door to Mom’s room, where my father sits. Tears run down his face but he’s silent, dissociated from reality. As a doctor himself, he understands the real depth of her condition. Words like _subdural hematoma, major_ _cervical spine injury,_ and _inability to discern cortical activity_ actually meant something to him. Maybe he even had to use those words to describe someone else's loved one once or twice, before he moved to private practice. But now, someone was giving him those words about his Masaki. My throat closes and I have to look away.

“No,” my voice cracks, “the world has asked too much of him already.”

I stand and shake the doctors hand, pulling my coat off the back of the chair and onto my shoulders. When I make it to the doorway, the bright light of the hall feels like a knife plunging into the brain matter behind one eye, and I reel to the side. I’m surprised when I stumble into my father’s waiting chest, feeling comfort from the strength of him for the first time in a long time. He helps me stand straight then places one hand on the side of my face, touching my hair. I feel something break inside me. It’s the first time I let the guilt assail me hard, telling myself I should have tried harder to convince her to stay home and rest, get over her cold, that the grocery store could wait. I know it certainly won’t be the last. My father starts to cry again, but goes into mom’s room and sits by her side while he does. I take the train home, and it’s somehow the longest and shortest ride of my life.

I’m standing in front of the house waiting for something to make sense when the door bursts open and Karin runs out, full tilt, almost falling over when she has to skid to a stop. Yuzu hangs behind in the doorway, arm drawn to her chest and tears precariously close to falling in her eyes. Karin is breathing like an animal, holding my jacket and screaming, shaking me. She is stronger than I remember, the spitting image of her dad, just like I’m a carbon copy of-

I take her arms in my hands and she looks terrified of me, so I try to loosen my grip. I can’t meet her eyes when I tell her that some drunk bastard slammed into our car on the way home, all but killing our mother, and I know I’m a fucking coward for it. She roars and slams her fist into the fence over and over until her knuckles bleed. I hear Yuzu wail in grief as she falls to her knees, looking into the sky for answers. I look up too, and I wonder if any of us will ever get any.

 

_ Six weeks later… _

 

__ After that night, life felt a little like living in a dream. The world had a surreality to it, a constant sense of waiting without really being able to say what for. Slowly, grudgingly, dad was starting to realize the medical truth of it all; his wife, our mother, was dead, and the machines were just inflating a lifeless shell in her place. I think about his face this morning, telling me it was almost time, that I should see her as much as I can these next couple weeks.

It hurts, but I smile. He does too, but its not as convincing.

After classes on Tuesday, I hop on the train and head to the hospital. It's about seven thirty, and the majority of business commuters have already made their way home, so I have space to sit. I lean back, catching a glimpse of my hair in a reflection. I swallow over my dry throat.

_ Will it ever feel good to look in the mirror again? _

The quiet hum of the train lulls me to relax and try not to think of those questions, at least for now. Instead, I distract myself with something Mom and I loved: watching others. Across from me was a middle aged woman writing in red pen on some papers, a teacher after one of many long days. To my right are two younger girls, high school aged, talking in hushed but excited voices. One of them looks up at me and blushes. I turn away when her friend points and they squeal a bit. To my immediate right is a man in a suit having a harsh conversation with what sounds like a subordinate. 

_ Boring crowd. _

The train rolls to a stop, dropping off the girls and picking up a few more travelers, but the hospital is still two stops down the line. I'd almost given up and retreated into my phone like any good university student would, when I see a flash of something bright and clearly not boring out the window behind the teachers bowed head.

Standing on the platform is a beast of a man, looking at least four inches taller than me, but somehow managing to be completely unassuming. If it weren't for the bright, unruly blue hair peeking out from under a black sweatshirt, I would have missed him entirely. He is still, almost too still, and I watch as he slowly raises his head to reveal eyes equally as cyan. Time felt like amber as his gaze met mine and our eyes locked. I feel...sick, somehow, but also pulled in so I couldn't look away if I wanted to. The train around me lurches, and deep in the back of my mind I think I hear a voice, but I can't make out what it's saying. Just as we started to move again, it clears enough so I understand.

_ Watch the teacher.  _

I glance at the woman across from me, but notice nothing of new interest about her. When I look up, the blue haired man is gone.

_ What the hell? _

I shoot from my seat, grabbing at a strap to steady myself as I ogle the empty platform.

“You okay kid?”

The man to my right is staring at me, hand over the mouthpiece of his cell phone. The teacher has turned her gaze too at my outburst, and I realize how crazy I must look.

“Sorry, please excuse me,” I say, taking my seat and pulling out my phone to hide my embarrassment. 

_I’m tired,_ I think to myself, trying to shake the image of the man out of my mind. They both go back to their tasks and I sit low and still in my seat until the train reaches my stop.  When it does, I hike my bag higher onto my shoulder and step onto the platform, then make my way up the steps to the street. I notice absently that the teacher got off at this stop too. She takes the steps a few paces in front of me with light, quick movements. 

Only as we emerge onto the busy street do I start to feel odd. It’s a strange feeling; similar to being watched or followed but by something intangible, sentient but completely objective and detached. I’m standing on the curb now, the hospital just a few paces away across the street. People crowd around me waiting for the signal. Being taller than average, I have a good vantage point, and try to search for the source of my unrest. The light is still red so I’m preoccupied with looking when I feel something brush my right side and move past me. It was almost like a momentum was created, the energy moving my gaze forward in time to see a woman stepping onto the street just as the signal turned. In my peripheral I see a cab flying to make a right on red ahead of the wave of pedestrians ready to cross. Almost like they have a mind of their own, my arms reach out and grab the woman from behind and spin hard, both of us toppling on the sidewalk just in time to feel the taxi rush past, horn blaring.

“Holy fucking shit,” I breathe, heart pounding from adrenalin as the people around us begin to clap and awe. A man and his girlfriend help myself and the woman up. I get a look at her and feel my pounding heart stop. The woman is the teacher from the train, frazzled, dirt maring her pencil skirt as she huffs with wide eyes.

“I-I didn’t even see it coming, the signal was on “walk,” she stutters before resting a hand on my arm gently. I place my own hand over it, and she turns her fearful eyes up to me.

“Asshole turned on red, are you alright?”

“Thanks to you,” she sighs before stepping back and bowing deeply.

“It’s nothing, really,” I spit quickly, uncomfortable with her gratitude. As I watch her cross and walk away, dazed but cautious, I feel a pull in the air around me again and start to cross too. 

_ What was that? _

I make it all the way to the critical care wing of the hospital in a trance, stopping at a gift shop and buying a small bouquet of lilies. When I get to room 1214 I stop and close the door behind me softly. Her heart monitor beeps gently while the respirator huffs, filling her lungs.

“Hey, Mom.”

I set down the lilies and dim the light on the bedside table before sitting and taking her hand.  

“Dad says it’s about time to let you go,” I tell her, knowing she won’t ever say anything back to me again. It feels good, even if it’s one sided. I tell her how angry it made Karin, how angry Karin always is, how sad that makes Yuzu, and how Dad is too crushed to care. I tell her that school is going well when I can manage to make myself show up for class, and that I made sure the clinic’s financials were in order and we had the necessary inventory since dad could barely manage to see patients most days. 

“I think that we can manage without you,” I say feeling tears prick my eyes, “but Mama...I didn’t ever want to have to.” They roll down my cheeks, but I don’t hide them from her. The pain is overwhelming. I’m so tired, so utterly  _ spent _ just from existing without her. I’ve always had some foolish pride over how tough I was, the reliable first born son who was both successful and capable, but I can’t seem to make any of that matter now. Now, I just wished I’d kissed and hugged her more. Told her that as long as she was okay, I always would be too.

The guilt burns through me again, a staple in my life now. That night I had been home with her, just the two of us taking tea together for the first time in a long time. When it got late she started to fret over dinner, saying she just had to go to the store to get something for the family. She’d had a bad cold for several days and hadn’t been out to get the shopping done. If I could have just convinced her to order takeout, a pizza for gods sake, she would be alive right now. 

_ How could I have let her leave for something so silly, _ I ask myself over and over, wrapping my fingers into my hair at the roots and tugging. The silence is oppressive.

“For what it’s worth, there isn’t a reality where she stayed home. There was nothing you could have done or said.”

My head whips up at the sound of the quiet, deep voice echoing through the air; to my shock, on the other side of my mother’s hospital bed is the blue haired man from the platform. He leans against the wall with his eyes pinned on my mom’s prone form, a scowl etched into his face. I jump from the chair and step back, eyes wide with terror. 

“Who the fuck are you? How did you even get in here,” I yell, watching him calmly turn his eyes to me in response.

“You should try to be quiet, kid. Not good for people to think you’re crazy in a hospital. It’s just too convenient.”

“What the hell are you talking about,” I curse back at him, feeling my fear abate and return as rage for being interrupted in one of the last important moments I would have with my mother, or whatever was left of her. “Fuck it, I’m calling security.” 

_ I would recommend against that. _

I whip around from where I stand at the door and look back at the man, scared again.

“How-how do you keep doing that? I hear you but it’s like-”

_ In your head, _ he completes the sentence for me, only making my terror grow.

“Cool little trick, huh,” he says, out loud this time, with a laugh that implies he feels the opposite. I should be angry at this impossibly large guy who must have walked through walls to get into this room without me noticing, but I can’t bring myself to be mad. He looks...genuinely sad to be here, however it is that he got in.

“Please,” I ask, “I don’t know who or what you are but please just leave this place.”

“I wish that I could, but your mother isn’t in there anymore. This body has been left behind for too long. It’s done nothing but strain her.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. When he speaks, his voice leaves me cold and a little sleepy, and I get a more intense version of the ominous feeling from earlier. I watch him push off of the wall and look down at Mom, and a new feeling drops heavy into the pit of my stomach. I realize that it’s dread as I watch his hulking form bend over her, unsure of what to do. After a few moments of watching her he turns to me with onerous eyes.

“I was selfish for revealing myself to you, but I won’t insult you by asking you to forget. For the record...I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what,” I ask, trepidation blooming full like the big blossomed chrysanthemums my mother loved so much in life. He looks back to her body and closes his eyes, head bowed like it was when I first saw him on the empty train platform.

“This.”

He touched one large hand to the skin of her wrist, and suddenly the even lull of beeps from the heart rate monitor started to grow faster and more frantic.

“What did you do,” I scream, watching him step back and take his hand away. When he looks at me and I can't help but want to accept his apology; I see the regret behind his eyes. I’m crying when I rush out the door to the room and into the hall, yelling frantically. 

“Please someone help my mom!”

Doctors and nurses rush past me shouting nonsense. I make it back to the doorway behind them and stop in my path just as a nurse tells me I have to stay back so they can give live saving efforts.

_ He’s gone. _

I spin around fast, head reeling, looking down the hallway for the person who was just in that room and finding nothing. In my defeat, I fall into the chair outside Mom’s room to wait. It’s almost a half hour before the doctor emerges and trains a grave look on me.

“Kurosaki-san,” he says as he removes his face mask and gloves, “I’m so sorry to have to give you this news a second time.”

“Please, just Ichigo is fine. What happened to her?”

“The medical examiner will have to tell you for certain, but it appears that she began to bleed internally. Brain injury is still barely understood and can be incredibly unpredictable, so chances are this is a result of the accident.”

“It’s been almost two months, that can happen after such a long time?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I know this may not help your pain now, but Kurosaki-”

“Ichigo.”

“Ichigo,” he says with a sad smile, “I can tell you now, with certainty, that your mother would have never awoken from the coma. Her passing was a horrible event for you, but I can assure you it happened six weeks ago and she hadn’t suffered since then. One day this might bring you some comfort.”

I nod, numb, unsure if the relief I feel is a bad thing. I register faintly Dr. Hatori placing a hand on my shoulder and nodding before continuing down the hall. He reaches the nurses station in the middle of the wing before I catch up to him.

“Hatori-sensei!”

“Yes, Ichigo? Did you have more questions?”

I stare at him, and my thoughts flash to the giant man standing over my mom, touching her wrist. For someone with as much physical trauma as she had, it was reasonable that her death was just a sudden misfortune, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept that after all I had seen. Or thought that I saw. My mouth gapes like a fish, the man in front of me waiting patiently for me to speak. I can’t bring myself to ask him the question.

“Uh, I just wanted to say thank you. For treating her and my family so kindly. We couldn’t have asked for a better experience with the staff here.”

“Please,” he says with a gentle smile, “it is the most basic duty of my profession to be good to my patients. I didn’t need a single class in university to teach me humanity. I like to think the people who try to become doctors without it don’t last very long.”

I shake his hand and see him off as he heads to another room, and exhaustion finally starts to catch up with all the adrenalin, seeping deep into my bones. I finally manage to stumble over to the elevator and through the street back the way I came, except I take the train to Karakura instead of my university housing. When I walk up to the clinic, my father is just flipping the sign on the door to show closed. He gives me a surprised look and meets me at the front steps.

“Ichigo, we weren’t expecting you tonight,” he says, pulling me in for a hug from the side. I’m still not completely comfortable with his recent change of greeting from foolish banter to an embrace, but after everything I don’t have the heart to push him away.

“I’m sorry to barge in,” I say, trying to steel myself for what comes next.

“Well come in, I can heat you up some dinner and-”

“No thank you, Dad. We should talk out here. I-I just came from the city...I went to the hospital after classes.”

“Is...everything alright,” he asks with wide eyes, and I see the patchwork carpentry he used to build his heart up from her loss start to crumble. Even after everything that happened, Dad couldn’t really talk about mom directly anymore. He probably thinks that’s why I’m here.

“I was in the room with Mom, when...I’m sorry but she’s gone. All of her, this time. The doctor said her body couldn’t hold on anymore, and there were complications, but in the end she didn’t feel any of it.”

He’s quiet for a little, looking up into the sky just like Yuzu did that night six weeks ago. After a little while, he takes my hand in his. His vulnerability scares me, but I hold back and stand by his side, looking up too. We stay this way for several minutes, when something comes back to me.

“Can I ask you something stupid, Dad?”

“Questions are never in vain, son. What is it,” he asks, turning to face me.

“Do you believe that there are things that...I don’t know, come to us, when we die? Someone or something that kind of sees us off?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, turning his eyes back up, “I guess if we are spiritual beings, then it makes sense that there might be other spiritual beings out there. Maybe some of them we can’t see until we’re closer to that other side ourselves.”

I listen to him, knowing he thinks this is just some way for me to begin to cope and find some closure. Instead of telling him that I actually hallucinated and am probably going crazy as we speak, I just nod and give him another hug. He tells me the wake will be on Friday and that I should stay home for the weekend, spend some time with him and the girls. I smile, but don’t promise, then turn around to head for the last train back to the apartment.

Before even opening the door, I hear my roommates arguing not for the first time. I walk into the hall and trade my shoes for slippers, then head into the living room to find them.

“Why the hell do you care what time I come home, you one-eyed tree looking freak?”

“Why’dya gotta always be out late whorin’ around ‘stead of home cleanin’ the dishes ya left in the sink?”

“Who are you calling a whore? I resent your implication, whores are cheap and this sweater is certified angora.”

“Imma strangle ya with yer precious sweater if ya don’t start doing yer share round this damn place-”

“I don’t think homicide is going to fix anything,” I shout over them, watching as they spin their heads around to me so quickly you can hear the whiplash.

“Ichigo,” they both say at once, glaring at each other again when reminded of their respective presences. I put down my bag and step fully into the room, crossing my arms across my chest.

“Shinji, you really do need to help out more than you do, Nnoitra and I have done the dishes and taken out the trash every time for the past two weeks. And Nnoitra, you could sleep through a fucking nuclear mecha-monster attack without waking up, so stop acting like Shinji coming home late is so inconvenient. God, I can’t leave you two alone for even a couple hours, can I?”

“He started it,” Shinji whines, coming over to my side and wrapping his arms around one of mine. 

“Slinky lil’ bastard,” Nnoitra grumbles before flopping down on the couch. Shinji almost starts in again but I hush him and remove my arm from his grip, heading into the kitchen to grab a beer. I come back in to find Shinji perched in the old armchair, so I take a seat on the other side of the sofa like a barrier between them.

“Anyway, Ich, where the hell ya been? Thought yer classes were over at seven.”

“Yeah, I-uh, I went to the hospital,” I say, forcing my eyes to stay on the TV when the other two heads in the room turn my way.

“How is Mama-san,” Nnoitra asks with a low voice. He and I have known each other since middle school, when he moved to Karakura from Osaka. He had spent plenty of nights over at my house since then, and had an incredibly soft spot for my mother. Probably because she had instantly had the same very soft spot for him; Mom had always been able to sense exactly what a person needed the most from her. All Nnoitra had ever really needed was a parent who really acted like a parent instead of the revolving door of distant adults he got in foster homes. He always says that Mom was the only person to make him feel small since he had breached six foot four during our freshman year of high school, and that it was the best type of “small” in the world. The only time I’ve seen him cry was when he visited her at the hospital with me after the accident.

“She’s good. She...finally let go and moved on,” I answer, turning to meet his gaze because he deserves that much. He goes a little pale, then stands up abruptly and heads into the kitchen, returning with three more open beers and passing one each to Shin and I. He sits back down and holds out his, condensation already starting to fall down the side.

“To Mama-san finally bein’ at rest,” he says, and we all three clink bottles and throw them back. I stay in the living room with the other’s for a while in companionable chatter, talking about our days and classes and jobs. I’m grateful for the company, but still can’t help but be exhausted, so once we finish our drinks I excuse myself to my room. The flat we share is a two bedroom, but it came with a “office” in the back attached to the second full bath. It’s only about a third of the size of the designated sleeping quarters but the concession saves money every month, and in exchange for taking the smallest room I was also blessed with two large windows that opened onto a flat roof. I was the only one with a good view of the city below and the freedom to sit outside and enjoy the summer air makes it easy to forget about being cramped.

I drop my bag on a folding chair in the corner then trade my jeans and button down for some sleep pants and a tshirt. I turn the stereo I keep on the shelf on and open my phone, turning on a playlist at low volume. Once I finally get settled, I slide open the window and sit on the bed looking out. 

_ “It was selfish of me to reveal myself to you...” _

The man’s words echo in my head. What could he have meant by that? I could think of no excuse human enough to explain it away. Even if there was one, how did he get into the same room as me without using the only door and passing in front of my vision? It was impossible to explain.

_ But there has to be  _ some _ explanation, doesn’t there, _ I think to myself, running a hand over my side. I mean, people don’t just materialize out of thin air. I sigh, frown etched deep into the face I wish wasn’t mine anymore. None of this really matters; the question I can’t seem to get past, and the one I need answered more than the rest, sears itself into my being like a brand on the senses.

_ Am I ready to consider the implications of this man’s appearance, even if it means considering forces beyond my own control? _

If there was one thing I hated more than anything else, it was the idea of being out of control. Mastery of myself and my environment were just about all I had in the world anymore. Without it it feels like I’m falling, spiraling through the ether of life around me with no safety net to catch me before the crash. I’m so close to that lack of control now that I could swear there’s a draft around me, moving up, lifting my eyes to the stars that peak out over Nagoya. I’m pulled from the astral trance by a sudden thumping that comes from the roof, not my shaken heart.

“Hello?”

I wait and see nothing for a time, but then out of the shadow of the slope to my right emerges something small and bright.

“A cat?”

The animal meets my eyes in response, and I’m startled by its appearance. It’s clearly a short hair with its sleek, white velvet coat that ripples in the low light when the creature stops moving and sits down, curling a tail almost as long as the rest of it around large paws. It’s also a little bigger than the standard domesticated beastie, it’s proud angular head coming up to almost my shoulder from where I sit only a few feet away. What strikes me most are the bright, intelligent blue eyes that rest inside its skull, half lidded but curious. Slowly I hold out a hand towards it, not expecting much in response from a stray. I’m surprised when it - or rather he, as I notice when the cat stands - pads quietly over to me and sniffs my fingers cautiously. After a few moments he raises his head once more then sits by my knees.

“Quite a queer cat, aren’t you,” I chuckle, touching his back with a gentle stroke. He turns his head to me, staring for an almost uncomfortable moment, then arches his shoulder blades up to encourage stronger fingers. I scratch in between absentmindedly and return my gaze to the street. I’ve always considered myself more of a dog person, but the hushed seriousness of my new friend is comforting. 

_ Friend? _

I can’t think of another sentiment to describe the white feline, so I continue with my ministrations on his back and try to enjoy the lull of the city noise. After awhile I manage to, and my eyelids grow heavy enough for sleep. 

“Sorry cat, but I think it’s time to turn in. You’re welcome to stay here, if it pleases you.”

He turns his head on me again in a stare then lazily stands and stretches his spine. When he’s done he walks through the open window behind me like it’s the most sensible, routine thing in the world, sitting down on the bed with a surprising boldness that actually makes me laugh.

“Not exactly what I meant, but I suppose an invitation is an invitation. After all, the window will be open for you all night.” 

He yawns in response, and I pull myself back through the window onto my bed. The night breeze feels good so I take off my shirt and get under the sheets. In a final display of dauntlessness, the white cat steps gingerly up the bed from the foot and settles down onto the pillow to my right, just next to my head. It watches me while I lay down too but doesn’t stir, even when I roll over and meet its eyes. I reach out a hand to scratch his cheek, and a deep rumble rises from his chest in response. The darkness pulls me under soon after.


	2. Chapter 2

When the first light of morning stirs me awake, I find that the cat has gone from his place by my head. I’m not sure how to take it when I realize how anxious it makes me. I lay there for a little while longer waking up and it hits me like a truck.

The window is shut all but an inch when I know I had left it almost entirely open.

The knowledge itches in the very back part of my skull then crawls down my spine like ice. Like any good adult, I rationalize it away with bad excuses, like one of my idiot roommates being considerate enough to close it in the night. It’s just plausible enough for me to continue with my day, albeit not without an eerie fog oppressing my mind. I’m just leaving my last class when I hear someone calling to me from down the hall. I turn to see Muguruma Kensei jogging up to my left.

“Ichigo, hey,” he says with a blinding smile once he falls into step beside me. I met Kensei about a year and a half ago in a Differential Equations class. Just like all STEM based content, it came easily to me. The same was not true for him, as I found out when he approached me one day leaving a lecture and asked if I would be willing to tutor him. He was a nice enough guy and I’d never seen him be late to a class before, so I agreed. We met a few times a month and a handful of times the week before finals, and Kensei ended up passing with a low B. We didn’t have anymore classes together as he was pursuing something in computer technology and I was a fixture of the chemistry department, but we saw each other on campus and at student hangouts a lot. Almost more that I would expect from an acquaintance. 

At one of these more recent accidental meetings, I started to get a feeling for why I might see him around so often. I ran into him at the gym on campus, free for anyone enrolled. I’ll admit I generally don’t go there at all, only when it’s raining and I’m in the mood for a run. Kensei, on the other hand, is a frequent flyer. He was walking out as I was walking in and stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“I feel like I’m always running into you,” he says with a wide smile that was almost charming in the middle of such a gloomy day.

“I know, I promise it’s not a conspiracy,” I replied, smiling a little myself when he laughs. After he sobers I figure I’ll excuse myself and head in, but before I can say anything Kensei turns so we’re facing each other and steps in close. It’s too close almost, and I feel his hand brush my hip like it’s trying to decide whether it’s okay or not.

“You know, I’m always running into you but I feel like I don’t really know anything about you. I’d like to,” he says with our eyes locked before breaking his away to trail down my body. Subtlety was definitely not this guy’s MO, but I can’t lie and say it wasn’t flattering. After all, he’s pretty fit.

“Maybe we could go grab a drink sometime,” he says while his hand finally decides to rest on my hip after all. 

“Yeah, a drink couldn’t hurt. You still have my number?”

I was surprised I had given him that much hope but everyone has moments of weakness. It certainly wasn’t personal, but most of the time I just wasn’t too interested in dating or any of the associated risk factors. My recent life had been chaotic enough without having to try and sustain some sort of romantic relationship. More than that, it kind of made me feel selfish and even more guilty over Mom than before. Time spent on a partner would be better spent by her side. Now as we’re walking together, I figure it’s as good a time as any to let him down.

“Kensei, I’m glad to see you, I wanted-”

“I’m glad I caught you too, I want you to come out to that new club they opened downtown last month with me. Nothing big, just a few of my friends coming out for my birthday.”

He hands me a slip of paper with an address and time written on it while I gape like a fish.

“It’s this Saturday, I can count on you being there right?”

His smile is so huge the “no” in my throat gets stuck.

_ It’s his birthday, after all… _

“I should be able to make it,” I say back while cursing myself simultaneously. He gives me another huge smile then tells me he has to run off to another class and disappears. I grumble to myself the whole way to the train.

When I get back to the apartment, the sun is starting to sink below the earth and a crimson haze envelops the living room. Nnoitra isn’t a student like Shinji and I, and works second shift as a mechanic at a garage in Nagoya, so he usually doesn’t get home until after dark in the fall and winter. Shinji, however, always manages to beat me back from class on Tuesdays even though we leave the same campus within ten minutes of each other. He’s sitting on the couch fiddling with a sketchbook when I drop my bag behind the sofa and startle him.

“God, Ichi, you need to stop being so quiet when you come in. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“That’s what you get for always catching the 3:50 and not waiting for me,” I grin. I go into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water before coming back and sitting sideways in the armchair across from him. I take a drink then lean my head back, closing my eyes and enjoying the slight warmth of the setting sun through the glass door off the veranda. When I let my eyes open again I see Shinji in my peripheral and frown.

“How many times do I have to tell you,” I ask with an eye trained on him, “I’m not for drawing. Quit it.”

“Come on, don’t be like that. It’s just practice. Please?”

I huff but let my head fall back how it was before and close my eyes. The silence isn’t what’s uncomfortable, it’s the attention.

“I hate being looked at like this,” I grumble, but still stay in place. Never taking his eyes from the sketchbook, Shinji replies slowly and softly.

“I know you do, but that lighting is like something out of a fairytale. Just let me have my fun. You have such great bone structure for sketching.”

“What does that even mean,” I laugh, and he does too.

“It’s probably because you’re part European. Your mother’s father was from Scotland, right?”

“Yeah he was, she always said that’s how we ended up with the hair we did.”

“Well, hair isn’t the only thing you got. The shape of your eyes is a little rounder, you’re definitely taller, and you have a longer, more angled jaw.”

“I really hate this,” I groan again. Shinji smiles but keeps at it, eyes moving even quicker between me and the paper as the light starts to change more and the sun heads all the way below the horizon. After another half hour, when the room is dusky and we can both barely see, he yawns and stretches his arms over his head to tell me we’re done.

“Goodness, I haven’t chased natural light in awhile,” he says. I sit up and stretch myself a little then point to the book resting on his lap.

“How’d it turn out?”

“Great, I just wish we had more time. You should let me sketch you when we’re both off around this time, I have an idea for a piece that’s due for a class.”

I roll my eyes but don’t turn him down, looking at the charcoal sketch of myself. It’s still uncomfortable but I can’t help appreciating how talented Shinji is. He made me longer and leaner than I feel most days but managed to capture so many of the small lines and shadows that most people think you can’t recreate on paper. The guy on the chair in the sketch seems alive even while resting, strong, and most of all unburdened.

“It doesn’t even seem like me,” I whisper. Shinji puts a hand on my arm.

“It won’t to you, of course. The artist sees the subject how they truly are first, and they help the audience or viewer see it next. The subject is always the last to see themselves in the art the way everyone else does.”

“I think you just have a very good imagination, more like,” I say to him with a grin, and he gives me a playful shove in return before looking up into my eyes.

“Promise you’ll let me sketch you at least one more time, for one of my contemporary study pieces. The instructor said he really wanted us to work with the human body if we could. Please?”

“Whatever,” I sigh, trying not to fall over when Shinji wraps his arms around me and squeezes. I elude his grasp after a few moments, when a question tugs at my mind.

“Shinji?”

“Hmm,” he asks, turning his eyes up to me so I catch a second glance as his wider-than-sober pupils.

“You took something didn’t you?”

“I was trying to draw and couldn’t focus,” he says, shoving a hand into his pocket and pulling out a small tin box, originally containing breath mints. He pops it open and I catch a glimpse of several round, peach-colored pills. They’re just large enough to sit inside a one yen coin and about twice as thick.

“What are they,” I ask, feeling rather sheltered when my roommate smiles dotingly back.

“Adderall, like for ADHD? Everyone in the art department uses them at least once in a while.”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Up, mostly. It helps you focus, makes you feel kind of…capable, I guess you could say. Want to try it? You might not sleep much tonight though,” he says, holding out the tin. I hesitate, so he takes one out between nimble fingers and places it in my palm.

“Take it if you want to, if you don’t then give it back later. Maybe you’ll have the occasion to use it.” I nod and rub the back of my neck, feeling a little embarrassed. Shinji is great at responding just how I need him to though, and he places an arm around mine and guides me out to the veranda to sit. Once I’m in a chair, he runs back in and comes back with beers.

“You’re gonna make the perfect little housewife one day, you know that,” I joke with him, tipping back the bottle.

“You know I wouldn’t beer bitch for any other man, so you can stop right there.” I laugh then rub at a muscle just below my shoulder blade that I can’t quite reach. It’s been sore for the last few days. Shinji sets down his beer and pushes my hand out of the way, rubbing small circles with his thumbs right where I need it. I groan again, but this time in ecstasy and he works out the kinks he can feel with well-trained hands. I will say he’s certainly telling the truth about not doing this for anyone else. 

Shinj’s rather well known, especially in the gay community, as a high-maintenance kind of partner. He’s popular though and generally has a couple guys at a time taking care of his more expensive vices, like clothes and shoes. When we first met our freshman year at university, Shin made it abundantly clear that even though I was equally as broke and couldn’t spare anything after supporting myself, he wouldn’t mind getting together anyway. I had considered the idea and we went on a couple dates, but after one night of a few too many drinks on both sides we agreed that we got on much better as friends. Once the line was drawn Shinji never brought up his attraction to me again unless he was drunk and joking, but he continued to treat me differently than other friends. It was just little things like holding hands once in awhile or mothering me when sick; even so, I’d never seen him treat anyone else that way. I still can’t tell whether Shinji and I are just a special type of friends or whether he wants more from me, but since he hasn’t brought it up in the last two years of living together I don’t ask questions. I’m pulled from my thoughts when Shin stops and sits down in the chair next to me, sipping his beer and looking at the cars milling around below. When I flex my shoulders again there’s not a single trace of the prior nagging ache.

“Your hands really are a gift,” I say, seeing him smirk against the bottle opening as he finishes his drink.

“You’re welcome, dear. I’m gonna go get another, you want one too?”

I think for a moment before feeling a forgotten pressure against the skin of my palm. I take the orange tablet and place it on my tongue then finish the rest of my bottle in a few gulps. Shinji’s smile matches his wide pupils when I look over and nod. He comes back with two more and we drink, talking shit about class until Nnoitra comes home a couple hours later. By then the Adderall has hit me and my brain feels clear and efficient, and all I want to do is talk. My senses are a little sharper too, and I can hear the front door open before Nnoi is visible from the veranda. He goes to his room to change, then makes his way to us under the night air.

“Ya’ll look like ya did somethin’ ya shouldn’t,” he says with his expansive smirk, then he pulls a case of beer from behind his back with a triumphant look.

“You did too,” I say, and we all laugh, taking one from the box. Once the beer giver and I stow the rest of the bottles in the fridge, we congregate back on the veranda. Nnoitra opts to stand and lean on the railing while Shin and I take our normal seats. After a few more beers kick in Nnoi and I are bantering back and forth like almost brothers, and I barely notice that Shinji has went silent.  When I look over he’s hurriedly moving a hand over his sketchbook again, but this time he looks at Nnoitra while he tells us some stupid story of a hot girl at the garage. I decide to keep his secret.

“So did you get her number or are you just pontificating for no reason?”

“Shuddup, she just wasn’t my type,” Nnoitra says back, and I notice a little bit of blush coasting up his throat. I make a note to ask about it later.

“She was probably afraid she wouldn’t be able to kiss him without carrying around a stepladder,” I fake whisper to Shinji, and he scowls in response.

“Whatever,” Nnoi slurs, well ahead of Shinji and I with almost half the case gone to his liver alone. I can tell he’ll probably be heading for bed soon. My brain is still notably clear even though I’m a little buzzed. I feel so good I start talking without thinking.

“Hey, have either of you seen any cats hanging around?”

“Ichi, are you okay,” Shinji asks while trying to hold back a laugh at my expense. I scowl at him from the side while he continues to sketch.

“I’m fine, and I’m serious. The other day there was his white cat on the roof off my room. It looked like a stray but I hadn’t seen it around before.”

“Ya better not be gettin’ any ideas ‘bout it cause I ain’t like cats,” Nnoitra puts in with a swig from his bottle.

“Jesus it was just a question, chill out Captain.” Nnoitra gives me his best drunk glare. We’ve known each other long enough that I can joke about his eyepatch without rebuke. After a few more moments of scowling, he finishes his beer and tosses the bottle into the garbage bag between our chairs.

“I think imma go ta bed, but first...”

His hand shoots out and snatches away Shinji’s sketch pad, using his ridiculous legs to propel him to the door and out of the other’s reach.

“Give that back!”

I watch Shinji hop up and down underneath Nnoitra’s arm, trying to grab hold of the pad that the latter was now inspecting under the light. I find myself smiling without knowing why. A few more hops later and Nnoitra shoves the pad into Shinji’s arms before stalking inside, making sure the door rattles behind him. I could swear I saw that pesky redness running up from his shirt collar again, but I tell myself it could have been my imagination. Shinji inspects his sketch with a frown, a genuine one that worries me, so I call him over. He pads softly to the side of my chair and I pull him onto the arm, holding his side.

“You wanna show me what has him acting like a girl,” I ask softly, being gentle because it seems like he needs it. He only meets my eyes for a second, then hands over the pad. The image on the paper is striking; I don’t think I’ve ever seen Shin’s work look like this. Usually he has this kind of sleepy, dream-like style, and whenever I’ve seen him draw people they’ve been at rest. The image that sprung from his few hours of labour was anything but that.

It was clearly Nnoitra, of that I was sure, but it wasn’t the Nnoitra I saw tonight. He was tall as always, but he held his arms behind his back on the railing for support, forcing his shoulders up like he carried a great weight. His hair was also tied up, short strands falling from a knot at the back of his head that was shown in three-quarters profile. The cigarette in his fingers he brought to his lips looked like it might burn through the image at any moment. There was such an incredible amount of motion in it, from his sweeping upper body to the breeze rippling his worn wife beater, and I understand now why my friend was so flustered.

“You admire him,” I said to Shinji. He turned his already wide eyes on me frantically, then looked away with his bottom lip between his teeth. It seems like forever before he speaks to me.

“I...I didn’t know, I guess. Until I was done. But your right, somehow, and now he knows it and I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe try talking to him. I know it sounds crazy, but I have a hunch it might go over better than yelling at him.”

“Oh my gawd~, Ichi, I’m supposed to find him detestable,” he groans, putting his hands over his face. I can’t hold back my laugh, but I rub a hand over his back for comfort too.

“It’s not the end of the world, Shin. Just do the dishes in the morning and I bet he’ll change his whole tune.”

We both laugh at that. Distanly, I feel like I’ve missed my friends.

“I forgot to tell you, we’re having the wake for my mom this Friday at the temple where my family’s plot is in Karakura. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me and Nnoi. I know you only met her once or twice and it's short notice, so no pressure.”

“Are you high? Of course I’ll come,” he screeches, and I could swear he almost blew my left eardrum. The support feels good though so I just give him a smile and nod. I’m considering grabbing another beer and heading to the shower, but then I remember this afternoon and a wave of nausea hits me.

“What’s that face about?”

I look to the side and realize Shin is watching me. I huff at being caught.

“Remember that Kensei guy I tutored our second semester at university? Differential equations?”

“You mean silver-hair-cute-ear-piercing-gym-rat boy? He was pretty cute, why?”

“Well, two weeks ago he stopped me in front of the gym and made his…interest, if you will, rather clear.”

“Ohmigosh that’s great! You gotta tell me everything-“

“Shinji, calm down,” I laugh, “there isn’t really anything to tell because I don’t want to go out with him.”

“You can’t stay single forever, you know. He’s cute, he’s friendly, and most importantly he’s gay: what’s the problem?”

“The problem is me. But I already agreed to go to this club on Saturday for his birthday because I’m an idiot. Will you go with me?”

“Depends,” he says, flipping a few strands of blonde hair over his shoulder, “what club?”

I fish the small piece of paper from my pocket and read the front.

“A new place called Hokage, he said it’s downtown-“

“You’re serious? I’ll totally go, it’s supposed to be the new elite gay spot in Nagoya. Like, duh.”

“Good, thanks for making it easy. I’m gonna call it, it’s almost 11 and I need to hop in the shower.”

Shinji and I say our goodnights and I leave him on the veranda to finish his beer. I grab another and head to the shower. Once I’m there under the warm water I start to feel it catching up with the clarity of the pill and let myself relax. I finish up quick and head into my room, opening the window as routine dictates. The wind that blows through is comfortable but strong, pushing my wet hair away from my face. It smells a little of rain in the air, so I start to close it to a crack when I’m suddenly stopped by…something. I tug on the frame around the glass but it’s become stuck fiercely against an unknown force. I can’t see anything in the window track so I pull harder, but nothing. I’m starting to get frustrated in my semi-intoxicated state when I hear what sounds like footsteps – human ones - from the roof slope directly above me. They’re moving quick.

“What the hell,” I slur to myself, sticking my head out the window and looking up. At the same time, the footsteps stop and a flash of white streaks down just past my nose onto the area just in front of me. To my surprise, it’s the white cat from last night. His muscles ripple fiercely under his coat at the force of his landing, then he turns to me and I hear him purr.

“Well hello again,” I say, watching as he steps through the window as the words leave my mouth. He sits on the sill and trains those blue eyes on me, but doesn’t move to the bed.

“You sounded like something much…bigger,” I tell him as I reach out to scratch his cheek, peering out the window once more in confusion. This cat was certainly bigger than the average felis domesticus, but even my drunk ass can tell that the footsteps I heard seemed to come from something big with two legs, not four. In other words, a person. I’m putting serious thought into stepping out on the landing and making sure there’s no one else there, but the cat purrs harder and presses his face into my hand, making me forget just as quickly. I follow him to the bed and lay down, forgetting the possibility of rain and instead enjoying the air that coasts over my alcohol-heated chest. I’m drifting off already when a sudden pressure makes it warm again. I open my eyes to find my friend curled up there, one eye cracked open to watch me as I watch him.

“It’s kind of dumb to say this to a cat, but thanks for coming back,” I whisper in confidence, resting my arm on my stomach and scratching behind an ear. I can’t be sure, but it seems like he purrs even louder in response.

Even so, I fall asleep quicker than I had any other night this week.

 

*****

I stand on the opposite side of the roof, listening to them talk. There’s a new part of me that I still don’t recognize pulling at the curtains in my mind, trying to show me things that I’ve lost. It says that I wish I could be down there with them. Humans hate things they don’t understand, but does that extend to a being like me?

I get the other feeling that I’m used to like fingers wrapping around my arm and tugging, this time to the south. I don’t want to answer the call right now so I push it away and tune my senses back in to the veranda below. I must have evaluated the new call for longer than I thought, because the voices have gone quiet. The edges of the outside light that once spilled over the landing has gone and I hear a door slide shut. Almost in response the the universe’s unwavering desire for causes and effects, I hear a window slide open. I step slowly across the roof as quietly as possible. I can’t help but invade his privacy again.

_ Smells like rain tonight… _

I feel the pull of his arm moving toward the window and the new part of me I think I hate sends me running forward while forcing the window open a little too obviously. I hope the beer and the pleasant conversation are enough for him to forget how it got stuck on nothing and my footsteps from above. Just as I reach the northwest corner of the building I let myself change, two legs propelling me off the roof and four catching me below. I see him and my mind is quiet once more.

“Well hello again,” he says with a lilt in his voice, eyes a little wider than normal. He reaches out to touch me and I let him, at least in this body.

“You sounded like something much...bigger,” he questions, sticking his head out the window. I get his attention by stepping inside and my prayers are answered when he follows. He shuts the window enough for me to leave in the night if I need to. I will need to, but I won’t want to. That’s what I’m still trying to figure out. He lays down with closed eyes I’m so used to but a spirit so alive that it’s a shock. It’s like a stopped heart being jogged by electricity out of arrest and I can’t remember ever feeling like this. I can’t remember feeling much in general these days. I follow the pull to be as close to that rich, overflowing lifeforce as possible and curl around myself into a ball on his chest, being blessed with one more opening of his cinnamon colored eyes that remind me of fire.

“It’s kind of dumb to say this to a cat, but thanks for coming back,” he whispers, running his fingers behind my ear. The new part of me hollers, and I still don’t understand, but now I think I want to. After an hour he’s deep in sleep, soon to transition into his first dream cycle of the night, and the call from the south is too strong to bear anymore. The soul is young but tired and angry, desperate for relief. It is he who will make the final choice as always, but I recognize the burning urge for the final human freedom inside him and know he wants something to assuage his pain.

I will give it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, that's chapter two. I've started three and am slowly making progress, but I also am ever-torn by the chaotic forces of my brain pulling me in different creative directions all the time. Take that...for what you will, I guess. Please keep sending your kudos my way and leaving me your thoughts so far and let me know what I can do better.
> 
> A demain!


	3. Chapter 3

I’m less surprised when the cat is gone this morning, but am significantly shocked with how early it is. I haven’t been up naturally at 6:30 in a while without feeling like a zombie. Shin being the lunatic that he is has already left when I emerge into the living room, gone to a morning yoga class most likely. I make a pot of coffee and fill my mug, going out to the veranda after stealing a cigarette from Nnoitra’s pack on the counter. I wouldn’t call myself a smoker; the most I ever have is two a day, one with my first cup of coffee and one just before bed on the roof. Sometimes I can go a week or more without one at all. But today, the extra fuzziness in the back of my throat from the beer makes me want one. I finish the coffee a few minutes before the cigarette and I feel a slight nicotine buzz in my limbs. When I go back in for a second cup I see that Nnoitra has already poured it into a green travel mug. Ever my most quietly thoughtful of friends, I watch him slide a new filter full of grounds into the machine and turn it on.

“Thanks Nnoi,” I whisper, making him jump anyway. He generally isn’t up this early.

“Mornin’,” he grumbles to me, then raises a hand in wave while drinking from the mug. I see the color on the rim: it’s very pale.

“One of these days you’ll be man enough to drink it black,” I laugh. He continues to mutter under his breath but I don’t pay him any attention. After the pot is done and I’ve poured my next mug full, we go back out to the veranda in silent agreement. When Nnoitra’s eyes are finally open the majority of the way and he’s working on his second smoke, looking like a real person, I speak to him again.

“The wake is on Friday. Dad knows both of us are off that day.”

“That was good a’ him,” he nods, a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth.

“Its weird, I’m starting to feel like he might be a real adult,” I say with a little shudder, and he cracks a full, crescent moon grin on me.

“It’ll pass,” he wheezes, and I’m hysterical too, and I have a more sober moment of appreciation for my friends than the one from last night. When we regain our composure, I put a hand on his shoulder and let myself be vulnerable, if only for a moment.

“You know, I’m really glad I’m going to have someone there who loved her just as much as me. I know she’ll be happy too.”

“Can I tell ya somethin’,” he asks without meeting my eyes.

“Of course.”

“I’m nervous. Ta see the girls, and say somethin’. Feels like I don’t deserve it.”

“You know Mom wouldn’t agree with that,” I whisper, unsure why my voice has grown quiet but feeling it cut me. He stays quiet too, but after a few moments I see him nod his head. He knows I’m right. We don’t say anything more, just finish our coffee then head to our respective showers. Nnoitra got the master bedroom and attached bath on a bar bet with Shinji after I claimed the office as my room; they trade once a year and I share mine with the unlucky one. Shinji makes it easy though with his early rising.

I brush my teeth and wet down my hair, trying to get it into some semblance of order and failing just like every other day. It’s Wednesday, so Nnoitra won’t leave for work until 10:30 and I’ll leave for class about an hour later. I have my Instrumental Chemical Analysis labs today, so instead of coming home at 4:15 I won’t get back until 8:00. I realize that I didn’t eat yesterday but the hunger hasn’t hit me yet. Looking in the mirror, I’m not as toned as I used to be but I still look pretty good. I check the clock and see it’s only 8:15.

_Fuck it._

I walk quickly back to my bedroom and grab a duffle bag, putting a pair of jeans and Chucks inside. I change out of my flannel pants into mesh shorts, a tshirt, and hoodie, then tie my running shoes to my feet and head out the door. I take the train west into the city with headphones in to drown out the business commuters already on their cell phones equipped with bluetooth devices. I reach campus in about twenty minutes and head into the gym. Two hours later, after a shower and an energy drink, I almost feel like a new man. Classes go smoothly and I start to get a little suspicious. That night, I go home and find that Shinji has cooked a huge dinner, Nnoitra salivating over his shoulder as he finishes plating a giant pile of tempura shrimp. At that point, I’m downright expecting another death. As if to reassure my paranoia, the white cat doesn’t come to my room that night even after sitting on the roof for almost an hour.

Thursday passes much the same, the normal day of a functioning adult. I realize halfway through why I’ve become so anxious: the calm before the proverbial storm. Before I know it, it’s 9:00 Friday morning and I’m getting out of the shower to find Shinji in his bedroom with the door open, standing in front of his closet in a trance.

“Shin? You okay? I know you’re skipping class for this.”

“Hm? Yeah,” he nods, “just want to make sure I wear the right thing.”

I can’t help but chuckle a little as I head into the kitchen. Nnoitra has made coffee and is already outside, so I join him and bum a square.

“You still feeling nervous,” I ask as we breathe in time. He surprises me with a fierce grin.

“Nah, I’m good. Ready ta be with the family.”

“Good, you big girl,” I smile back and slug him in the shoulder. He cackles and heads inside to get dressed. When all three of us are standing in the foyer at 10:00, I can’t help but think we clean up well. Shinji is in a pair of slim black chinos that end at his ankle and a pair of expensive looking leather shoes. He wears a dark grey turtleneck under a black cardigan. His hair, grown to waist length over the past few years, is swept up in a high ponytail, shorter hairs framing his face along with a pair of large, dark sunglasses. Nnoitra wears black jeans and a white button down with a black tie and his fitted leather jacket. In rare fashion his hair is also up, pulled into a loose bun in the back of his head. I look a little less flashy in trim black slacks, a black dress shirt, and black military jacket with combat boots, but all in all Mom would have been proud to see us grown into men with decent manners. We get to Karakura by 10:30 and make it to the temple in time to see a few final relatives filtering in, Dad and the girls still out front. When Yuzu sees me she sets off at a jog to meet me halfway, arms spread wide. I hug hard, taking in the sight of her.

I sometimes regret living away from home during university. I’ve always been close to my sisters and not being there to watch them grow into women feels wrong. Karin comes over too, at a walk, and hugs me from the side. They’ve both gotten so tall these past few years, all the way up to my chin like sunflowers in summer. Karin’s hair is short again, the back and sides faded closer than my own unkempt hair is. Yuzu’s comes to her ribs but she keeps it in a ponytail most days.

“I miss you Ichi-nii, are you going to stay the weekend with us,” Yuzu says as he pulls away. Karin doesn’t comment but waits for my answer just the same, eyes serious.

“Unfortunately I promised myself to a friend for a party a couple weeks ago. We’ll have a few days together soon, during the summer.”

“I know Karakura isn’t cool enough for you but you better come by soon,” Karin tsks, arms crossed. I hear Shinji’s chuckle behind me and turn.

“Karin, Yuzu, this is my friend Hirako Shinji. He met mom a few times and we’ve known each other awhile. Nnoi you remember I assume-”

“Nnoi-nii, we’re so glad you came,” Yuzu says, skipping over to hug him too. His cheeks are a little red but he smiles anyway and leans down to hold her back. Karin opts to go through a broshake with him instead and they grin at each other, looking thick as thieves after all this time. Karin could never get enough of how brash Nnoitra was and related to him alot, especially as she got older.

“Been forever, beanpole. You gotta come back when Ichigo does.”

“Mah, almost sounds like ya missed me or somethin’, Kari-chan,” he quips back, grin vicious as he teases her. She laughs at the nickname and I can’t help but smile; I haven’t heard her laugh in a long time.

The girls both introduce themselves to Shinji and we meet up with Dad. He seems in better spirits today and almost manages to be his old annoying self for a bit. We make it through the ceremonies and prayer and all have a chance to say goodbye. I linger on my sisters, kissing their heads while Nnoitra listens to my dad tell a bad joke only he’ll laugh at. I’m about to pull away from Karin when I feel her arms tighten again, so I stop.

“Ichigo,” she says with an unsure voice that makes my stomach cramp.

“What’s wrong, Karin?”

“I don’t know why, but I’m worried about you. You should stay in Karakura with us. Seriously.”

“Little sisters aren’t supposed to worry about their big brothers. I’m doing fine,” I chuckle, releasing my arms for a second time. I’m surprised when I feel her arms clench like vices, shaking under their own enormous strain. I didn’t know these arms had this type of force in them. I ache at the thought of what else I’ve missed.

“You don’t understand,” she says low between gritted teeth, “I feel like you’re in danger. Like there’s something...following you.”

Her arms are strong, but I am ultimately stronger. I pull away and lift her chin up to look in her eyes. I haven’t seen real fear in them for a decade.

“Where is all this coming from,” I ask earnestly. She shakes her head and looks away.

“I don’t know, do you ever get the feeling there’s something out there we don’t know about? Like, energy that has a brain-”

“But not a body,” I finish, feeling a chill. I suddenly get that dreadful feeling in me again like I did on the train a week ago. The hair on the back of my neck bristles, and I have to fight my neck’s urge to scan around the temple entryway.

“Then you know what I mean. It happened once the prayers started in the temple. All of a sudden I felt like something bad could happen at any second and like it was...following you,” she breathes, my chest hurting as I watch and understand.

“I...I can’t explain what you’re feeling, but I’ve felt it too. Nothing has happened so far. I’ll be okay, and I’ll visit you guys really soon.” The look she gives me in return is something close to searching. She sighs after a few moments.

“If you don’t I’m gonna show up at your door,” she growls, hugging me again fiercely before walking over and saying goodbyes to Nnoitra and Shinji. I hug my dad and tell him I’ll be home for a weekend soon, and to call me next week. My family heads off down the street to town for dinner with some of the other relatives at the wake, while my friends and I start the walk back to the station. I let them get a bit of a head start and linger on the temple grounds, something ominous thrumming around me like a drum beat. I look up the steps to the torii and see a shadow move behind it, vague but large. I feel that pull again like a hand dragging me forward by my heartstrings. I try to tune into whatever weird part of my brain that Karin shares that makes us sensitive to this weird shit. Whatever is up there, I can’t discern it’s intentions. The humming sound grows slightly louder, a chorus of my pulse and quick breath rising to meet it, feeling trapped until-

“Ichigo, tha fuck ya doin’?”

“I dropped my phone up at the temple I think, I’ll be back,” I yell behind me as I give into the pull. I’m running, taking stairs two at a time. When I fly over the final stair and under the gate I expect something to snap like a rubber band and propel the world into making sense again. Instead, I’m just alone. I hear the quiet bubbling of the chōzuya basin ahead and notice the tōrō are lit even though Dad told me they hadn’t been used all season. It seems peaceful. I’m about to turn and head down the stairs when finally the tension cracks and the flames flickering inside the lamps are huffed out.

“Who’s there,” I call softly, not wanting one of my roommates to run up here if I’m having a psychotic episode. There’s gooseflesh up and down my arms and I turn towards the stairs only to see a figure before me, under the gate. As the hulking mass steps forward my throat tightens and I start to shake a little. It’s like standing at the bottom of a pool, grounded in the thickness of water. When the force is no more than a few feet away light spills out from behind me, the lanterns breathing back to life in the dark by nothing to illuminate what stands in the path.

“You…?”

He looks up from his feet and I see the sad, empty expanse of blue he hides behind the shade of a hood.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he rumbles, sounding almost petulant.

“What did you think my reaction would be to a guy who’s almost four inches taller me appearing out of thin air?”

“I don’t have any right, but I need to ask you to listen to me.”

I stare at him in disbelief, numb and adrenaline-filled. He takes a few steps closer and I have to tilt my head back even more. I should be able to hear him breathing from this close but I can’t.

“Don’t go back to the city. Stay in Karakura tonight,” he says solemnly. I flash back to only minutes before, Karin’s voice in my ear and arms tight around my waist.

_You should stay in Karakura with us._

“Who the hell are you,” I whisper, watching his face. He shakes his head fiercely and bends down so he’s closer to me.

“Please, I know you don’t have any reason to, but listen to me. Listen to Karin-”

“You stay away from my sister,” I yell and reach for his collar. I don’t care if Nnoitra or Shinji hear me now: it’s a line that can’t be crossed. I make contact with his chest and I try to fist the black pullover he wears only to feel my hand go dead in response. Something cold creeps up to my elbow and it’s like the water has turned to blood, that disgusting, heady, metallic scent that makes your tongue thick and fuzzy. But instead of being hot I feel like I’ve been plunged into snow. None of this prepares me for the emotions, though. A string of sadness and rage and confusion barrels into my chest like a freight train. It feels like it goes on for an eternity but it must only be a few seconds. The pressure starts to fade as his hand guides mine away from his chest. He isn’t angry, and somehow that makes the whole ordeal much worse.

“Please, Ichigo.”

Then it’s all gone. The lamps die and once again the only thing I can hear are the nature sounds from around the temple. I’m breathing hard, like I was running for my life.

“Ichigoooooo~!”

I hear Nnoitra calling to me from the bottom of the stairs and wonder how long all that actually took. I stumble over to the steps and pull my phone out of my pocket, holding it up when I see him.

“Sorry, took me forever to find it.”

 

* * *

   

I think my roommate’s notice something is wrong on the train ride back to the city, but they don’t say anything. Instead, Shinji distracts me with information about the club we’re going to tonight for Kensei’s birthday. The more he says, the more nauseous I get, but my weak stomach makes it easier to forget.

“I even saw online that last weekend Hokage had to hold the door for almost _four_ hours because they were at capacity within two after opening. It’s going to be so packed,” he squealed, ignoring my own look of horror.

“Nnoitra, please help me for godssake,” I lament, turning my wide eyes to him. He just scoffs and grumbles something about not wanting to be in a room with that many people ever in his life.

“I know crowds aren’t your thing but-”

“Do I need ta remind ya ‘bout summer sixteen, ya damn traffic cone?” I let my memory flash back to the one and only time I wanted to go to a club and drug Nnoi along. His height and confidence meant that girls were hanging on him like leaves on a tree, and by the time we left he’d had three cosmopolitans spilled on his shoes. He vowed I’d never drag him out to a club again.

“You just gotta hold that grudge, don’t you beanpole,” I huff, and he snorts back but I see a grin at the corners of his mouth.

“You know, I think it would be cool if you came with us. Because of work and school, the three of us never really have a full day to ourselves. It’ll just be a couple hours, right?”

Both myself and my tall friend whip our heads around to Shinji, sitting and scrolling through his phone like he didn’t _actually_ just encourage Nnoitra to spend time with us. I look at Nnoitra and wait for his rebuke, only to find myself shocked for a second time when I see that little redness creeping up his throat again.

“Guess, if ya ain’t gonna be out all damn night,” he says softly, then stands and turns to face out the window. Shinji finally raises his eyes to me and we exchange a look, his eyes reading a little embarrassed but also...pleased. Then, he goes back to his phone for the rest of the train ride, leaving me to wonder alone. With my mind freed I can’t help but hear a whispered plea again.

_Please, Ichigo._

I didn’t have time to then, but now I can’t help but ponder how he knew my name. Moreso, what was that overwhelming force of pain I felt when I touched him? The wave of sadness and fear that seeped into me like liquid nitrogen feels so distant now, just as vague and shapeless as his intentions, but I know I felt it. It’s like he’s become a sixth sense of mine. I’m pulled from my thoughts when the train groans to a stop and I see Shin stand up in my peripheral. We all gather together, step out and head home.  

Before I know it, it’s already ten and Nnoitra is knocking on my door, waking me from a necessary nap. I rub my eyes and finally bring them to focus on him. He’s actually went out of his way to look club ready. His hair is pulled half up and a sleek, black patch covers his injured eye. He has on a pair of jeans without holes or motor oil ground into the fabric and a merlot-colored pullover that I didn’t know he owned. After our last trip, he abandoned nicer shoes for a pair of black combat boots that can go right in the wash.

“Well okay then MatsuJun, you trying to get some tonight or what,” I chuckle, sitting up to stretch. He rolls his one good eye at me, but I notice a little grin too.

“Shuddup, I didn’t wanna get any lip from Blondie ‘bout lookin’ like a hick,” he grumbles. Without further ado he heads out into the living room and leaves me to get dressed myself. Since the bar has been set higher than originally expected, I decide to put in a little effort. I pull on a pair of fitted khakis and a navy blue henley then top it off with a chestnut colored moto jacket, a present from Mom when I got into university. I head out into the living room and catch Nnoitra having a smoke on the porch, Shinji taking a selfie in the kitchen. He has on a pair of hunter green chinos, an ivory angora sweater with a v-neck, and slim-fit, olive tweed riding jacket. All in all, he looks ready to ruin men’s lives. When he catches me watching him from the side, his eyes light up.

“Ichi, come take a picture with me, you look so cute,” he smiles as wraps an arm around mine and tugs, using flattery to convince me. I groan a little, but throw my arm around his shoulders as he holds his phone up and curls into my side.

“You’re just trying to make someone jealous, aren’t you,” I laugh as he presses his cheek against my chest. He shushes me and tells me to actually smile for once while he snaps photo after photo. A few annoying moments later he pulls away enough to look up at me.

“I just wanted a picture with us both looking so good. I never get to see you dressed up.”

“You tryna say I look like shit, huh?” Nnoitra closes the sliding door, an unusually petulant look on his face. To my utter shock, a fight doesn’t break out; Shin just laughs and holds out his other arm.

“If you wanted to be included, just say so. Come on, let’s get one together before we leave.” Nnoitra is quiet and still for a moment, just watching, before he walks over to Shin’s other side and cautiously places a hand on his back below my own arm. Shinji reaches up higher to catch us all, and doesn’t even fuss over Nnoi when he won’t smile. After a few clicks he looks down to his phone.

“We should keep one of these for the house, actually hang it up. I don’t think we have any good pictures like this of all three of us. Thanks, guys,” he smiles up, eyes sparkling. I squeeze him a little in a half hug and Nnoitra just huffs, seeming flustered. Without further ado we all agree to head out, albeit silently. When we hit the streets of downtown Nagoya, some of the trepidation of socializing starts to melt away. Nnoitra makes jokes about all the girls done up for the night and Shinji points out all the men he could probably turn after enough shots. We laugh and carry on, the throng of people milling around us growing thicker as we approach the club. We finally see the neon sign over the doorway, and I spot the line to get in. It disappears down the block and around the corner.

“Orange, you ain’t boutta try to make me stand in that line are ya,” Nnoi sneers. I swallow over a lump in my throat.

“Hold up,” I sigh, pulling my phone out of my pocket and texting a number I have saved with only a first name.

_I’m here, are you already inside?_

The response comes back almost instantly, telling me to wait where I am. Only a minute or so later, I see Kensei emerge behind the bouncer, putting a hand on his shoulder and calling me over. We make our way to him, the giant red-haired doorman already waving us past the rope. I take my time to see how good he looks tonight. He’s in a pair of black designer jeans and a pale, lavender button down, collar open enough to display the top of his chest and sleeves rolled to the elbow. A pair of tasteful diamond studs adorn his ears and a modern-looking silver watch sits heavy on his wrist. His hair and skin are perfect, as always. I almost start to be happy I came, until he smiles at me. It’s gorgeous; straight, white teeth, slender lips cheshire-curled and showing off dimples that contradict his strong jawline. But it doesn’t make it all the way to his eyes. It should stop me in my tracks, but a nudge from Shinji keeps me moving. I’m stiff when he hugs me as we cross into the entryway.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” he says to me lowly with a smile I can hear, but still can’t feel. Even so, the warmth and strength of his body distracts me enough to smile up at him when we part.

“I hope it’s alright I brought my roommates,” I say as I rub the back of my neck, remembering only now that I should have let him know ahead of time.

“Anyone you bring is cool with me,” he grins, and we turn back to my friends.

“These are my closest friends, Hirako Shinji and Nnoitra Gilga. Shin, Nnoi, this is Muguruma Kensei.”

“Nice to finally meet you guys,” Kensei nods, shaking Nnoitra’s hand. I notice how stiff his is and that his eye has turned cold but try to ignore it. Shinji leans into their greeting, eyes alive with only flirtation. When everyone’s made their introductions, we head inside. The music grows louder slowly as we descend into a maw of bodies and color, lights above swirling over the floor. I follow Kensei into a VIP area with it’s own bar, seeing a few other people from university there too. The Dillon Francis remix of Machika thumps against the walls and vibrates into me so hard I almost don’t feel Kensei’s hand on the small of my back as he hands me a shot. I look into his hazel eyes. We throw them back.

“So I have a question,” he leans in to ask while handing me another short glass of some alarmingly smooth liquor mix. I just nod and turn my ear to him, a little too caught up in the energy and his looks. He takes the invitation and puts that large hand against my back again, but this time pulls me into him a little.

“This is dumb, but I was really hoping you’d dance with me tonight. What do you say?”

Of course, to myself, I say hell the fuck no. But when he looks at me again, I wither.

“Maybe,” I say holding up the shot, “after a few more of these to make me forget how stupid I’m gonna look.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, “we both know know you’re the hottest thing in here.”

“Maybe with this jacket on,” I chuckle to hide my awkwardness, slipping my jacket off to the seat behind me and rolling up my sleeves. I knew the shots hadn’t fully hit me yet, but I was pretty warm. We take the next drink and the track starts to change.

“Wow,” I listen close, feeling both his hands on my hips now as we face each other.

“What?”

“I love this song,” I laugh, buzz starting in my head. The Bazzi vs Eden Prince remix of Mine thrums in my chest, and I see Kensei look me up and down. He takes my hand without saying anything and leads me to the floor. As I’m stepping away I catch Nnoi and Shin sitting on the sofa in rare fashion. Nnoitra looks comfortable with amber liquid in his cup, arm around the back of the couch and head bent towards Shinji. The latter is talking and pointing to me, animatedly gossiping in a way my taller friend usually can’t stand. Just before I lose them, I see Shinji turn away from us, knees touching Nnoitra’s. I haven’t seen Nnoitra look at someone like that in a long time. If Kensei didn’t pull me against his hips hard the same exact moment, I probably would have went back. But with the song and the way he wraps around me, I can’t help but be transfixed. For a few moments, just before I fully let go, I wonder why I was so worried about going when I’m having an amazing time.

Maybe it really will be a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here's part three as promised. I know people are dying for False Awakening; I'm trying to make it happen soon.
> 
> on a side note, I recently had a comment from a reader asking for a sequel to Alley Cat, my first fic. if there are any of you out there who read it back in the day, would you enjoy a part deux? I never planned to continue that story line at all but now I'm considering it, if I get some feedback.
> 
> love you guys,  
> kurokun


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